


Handing Down the Torch

by KuraiOfAnagura



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Legendary Olympic Parties, M/M, OaR, Olympia - Freeform, Olympics, Otayuri if you squint, Underage Drinking, Victor Being Victor, Winter Olympics 2018, Yuri's so fucking scared of the Olympics, Yuuri Katsuki is a great big brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-11 19:52:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17453228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuraiOfAnagura/pseuds/KuraiOfAnagura
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky was not excited for the 2018 Winter Olympics. He was downright terrified.





	1. PART I

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the fic I've been writing on since February 2018 and which I've finally finished! \0/  
> I decided to upload it in three parts, so nobody has to deal with a long wall of text. This story is finished and will be updated regulary.
> 
> Please keep in mind that I've tried to stay as close to reality as possible, but this is my fanfiction and I took several liberties when it came to organizing and sheduling the games. Exspecially Victor demands a lot of extra attention!  
> This was loosely inspired by the results of the Winter Olympics 2018, but I've mixed it up with the Sochi Olympics 2014 a lot.

 

 

 

 

Yuri Plisetsky was not excited for the 2018 Winter Olympics. He was downright terrified.

His season 2017/18 had started with a peak and came tumbling down from thereon until his current skating style could’ve been called “out of spite”.

He’d secured his place in GPF with a silver and a gold medal on his sleeves, only to finally hit that damn growth spurt three weeks before the finals, growing alone 5cm in this time. He’d bombed and landed 6th. His only saving grace was that the point difference towards Leo de la Iglesia and Jean-fucking-Jacques Leroy was at least not embarrassingly big. He’d kill anybody before admitting how the Katsudon’s gold and Otabek’s bronze lifted his mood as well as Victor’s apparent ‘defeat’ with a silver medal. Yet the fact that his body had finally decided to screw him up big time remained and he’d continued to spiral downwards from there. His third place at Russia’s Nationals could only be explained that besides him and Victor the most promising skaters were still in the junior division and he’d placed barely in the Top 10 at the European Championship. The media had a field day after that, calling him a one-hit-wonder and example for Russia’s questionable methods to burn their promising athletes out way too young.

And then of course came all of the doping tests. Since his height would never be correct, no matter if there was just a day or a month between the appointments, he’d been targeted by the international doping committee trmendously and he could swear this one nurse got a kick from drawing his blood countless of times and seeing him pee in a bottle.

Victor acted according to his age for once and silently handed Yuri a tissue as they both finally got the clearance to compete for the OAR Team.

But with that his mental struggles only began. It was only thanks to his bronze in Nationals and his place in the GPF that he was listed for the Olympics at all and nobody made a secret of the fact that they didn’t expect anything from him at all, other than to look pretty. He’d already tried to make peace with himself to skip out on World’s; seeing the risk to injure himself was way too high. Yet nobody could keep him from competing at the Olympics. He’d fought nail and tooth for his spot in the men’s singles and he would kick and scream if anybody as much as tried to suggest giving it up.

He did not know, though, whose nut job of a crazy idea it was to list him for the Team’s Event.

Oh, right, it was Victor.

Victor Nikiforov, National Champion, again reigning European Champion and currently Captain of OAR’s Skating Team (not that there was something like a Captain in this kind of events, but then again he was Victor Nikiforov and if Victor Nikiforov wanted something, Victor Nikiforov got it).

Victor Nikiforov, who was unbearable by now because his fiancé had to go back to Japan to train with THEIR Team. (Yuri would never admit it, but he could do for Katsudon’s advice right now. For once of how to handle his soon-to-be-husband and second of how to handle his own nerves).

He’d barely stomached his humiliation (7th at Euros. Never before had he loathed a number more like this) when his so called Captain called for a week long training camp in Moscow with the rest of the team. Victor refused to let him sleep at home, stating the team’s spirit as an excuse. At Yuri’s furious scowl he’d shrugged and stated that the commute from his childhood home in the outskirts would take way too long for him to arrive at the rink. Winded by his losses, his constant growing pains and a new known low in his spirits he gave in surprisingly soon.

So he found himself next to Mila in a small conference room in their hotel after a sleepless night thanks to Victor’s never ending Skype call with Katsuki. Victor’s connections to the team manager’s of the OAR had to be superb for none of them were in sight and this was a rare coach- and manager-free 5 five days (again, a thing usually unheard of, but hey, it was Victor Nikiforov!). For someone who basically grew up with the best figure skater in history the feeling of being star struck was a foreign one to him. Yet Yuri couldn’t help but feel intimidated when the team met for the first time in the morning after their arrival.

Both pairs, ice dance and pair skate, where from different clubs than Mila, Victor and himself. Anastasia and Mikhail Volsya, a seasoned pair that were in their third Olympics (though they’d started with different partners in their first) were good friends with Victor and had their home rink in Moscow. Yuri knew them of course, but couldn’t help the light awe that bestowed him when they entered the room, their bodies in perfect synch, experience and confidence in their every step, worthy for a couple that dominated pair skating since in the last five years.

After them came Nataliya Medowa, current #2 in the Russian Ladies’ Singles. She was a year older than Mila and trained in a rivaling sports club in St. Petersburg. Despite their rivalry on and off the ice, she and Mila were quite on good terms. Even though that their constant bickering and teasing could be nerve-wrecking. Their delightful squealing as they saw each other only added to Yuri’s ever growing foul mood.

The Ice Dance Pair Alexey Dostov and Marina Lodov arrived last. Agewise they settled between Nataliya and Anastasia, making Yuri the youngest skater present. They had a strong season behind them with a triple gold at GPF, Euro’s and Nationals.

 

After the exchange of greetings and pleasantries they’d settled in a loose circle of chairs (Yuri could stop himself from muttering kindergarten under his breath. Barely) and Mikhail nodded benevolent towards Victor.

“Captain, my Captain!” he called out in English and everybody giggled, “shall we begin, Vitya?”

“Will do, Misha! Well then! Welcome Russia’s Natio- oh, well I mean, hello to all of you clean and cleared people? Esteemed team mates! Welcome to the Team of the Olympic Athletes of Russia! I know all of you and you all know me and I’m pretty sure we all know each other!” His trademark heart shaped smile lit the room and everybody besides Yuri chuckled, Mila though joined him in her eye roll.

“One Question before we start, Vitya!”

“Sure, shoot!”

Yuri’s stomach sank as soon as Mikhail threw him an apologetic half smile. “Sorry, Yurotchka, nothing personal, I hope you know that. But Vitya, I really have to ask why you’ve listed Yuri here for the team?”

Nataliya to Mila’s right scoffed. “Misha, really? Have you seen him skate?”

“That’s precisely the point, Natascha. I do not question Yura’s skill or determination. He’s part of this for a reason. I do, though, question his currently physical form. Hm, I think it’s different for girls. Sasha, you’re a physical therapist, help me out here?”

Alexey, who’s chin had rested in his in his palm until he’d jerked up. “Ah, well, he’s hitting a growth spurt. While girls have several small growing periods, boys tend to have fewer but more intense ones. Meaning his center of gravity’s shifting, his muscle mass and flexibility are changing. I cannot speak for him of course, but when I went through it I basically had to relearn a single Axel from scratch.”

“I know that. But he’s shown that he’s still better than most, even if he’s not in top form!” Nataliya was quick to defend him again.

“Absolutely, Natasha. A 7th place at Europes’ with just 20% while other give it their 100? Seriously, Yura, you can be proud! Not everybody goes through this with as much dignity as you do!”

Yuri perked up. Yakov and Lilia both always had told him how much he’d failed, pointing out his mistakes, his sloppy legs and stiff forms. But hearing it from a total outsider, who went through the exact same predicament, strangely warmed his cold and bitter heart.

“Thanks,” he muttered staring at his fingers.

“I for once think that it was a smart move from Victor here. If anything the Olympics are a huge opportunity and bring out the best in all of us!”

“I think so, too,” his partner Marina chimed in. “And even if he fails, Victor do I assume correctly that you’re planning to give him the Short? I mean, teams have won gold in the past, even if one Short sucked.” That got his blood riled up.

“So you think you can drag me along since my failure won’t affect you too much anyway?” Yuri threw her a dark look. Her smile became knife like and suddenly everybody knew who was the leader in this pair. “Precisely.”

“What do you have to say, Yurotchka?” Mikhail was addressing him know directly and as much as he loathed the whole situation he couldn’t detect any malice in the older skater’s face.

“I’ve earned my spot in the Olympics fair and square. There were others who’d needed luck and not skill to get the spot. And if I have to skate for myself or for all of you, I will not let this shit fuck up my skating! I will fight for every fucking point on the ice!”

“Vkusno!” Suddenly Victor appeared behind him, clasping him on both shoulders effectively pinning him into the chair and restricting his movement. “I trust Yura here with my life! Well, not really, because I’m pretty sure he’d murder me in my sleep at the very first opportunity! But on the ice I wouldn’t want to have anybody else besides me!

Is your question answered with that?”

Mikhail leaned back in his chair and took a look at his wife. After some nonverbal communication he broke into a gentle smile. “Yeah, thanks Vitya. I do think we’re a marvelous team, actually. And to see our Captain stands literally behind every one of us is reassuring.”

“Great! Like already stated Yura will skate the short program. I plan to alter his Agape program for a lower base score, yet as something that can secure a solid amount of points if executed flawless. And I expect nothing else from our little Yurio here! Now for the Ladies! Mila, Natalya, I honestly can’t decide who’s going for the Short and who for the Free. Maybe you can come up with a solution?”

As if on clue both girls suddenly turned to face each other. They smirked devilishly.

“Ready, Babicheva?”

“Whenever you are, Medowa.”

They glared some more at each other before they broke into a furious session of rock paper scissors that Mila won. “Yes!” she threw her arms skyward.

“I’ll have the Free Skate, Natashenka here’s your girl for the short!”

“Wonderful! And now for my first action as your beloved captain I call for drinks! Follow me to the bar!”

Loud cheers erupted from the older members, obviously unaffected by the early hour for drinking and Alexey and Marina were already at the door.

Mikhail sent his wife with the rest of the girls and waited for Yuri and Victor to finish bickering.

“Yura,” he began, “I hope you don’t take this personally, but somebody had to be the asshole and address the matter. For my personal opinion I think you’re dealing amazing so far. Sure, the Olympics come at a shit time for you, but I’m sure you can handle it. When I was your age I dropped my wife, because I wasn’t fast enough to catch her after throwing. Can you imagine that? That was 13 years ago and she still holds it against me!”

“Tch, whatever. You and Marina can just be happy I’m skating single or otherwise you both know who would destroy you in the future!”

“Aw, Misha! He insulted you! That means he likes you!”

“Fuck off, Vitya! I insult you every minute and I loathe you!”

“See!? Nothing but pure love from our little kitten!”

 

\--

 

“Beka, I swear, they think I’m like their mascot! They don’t take me serious at all! And do you know what’s the worst point? I even can’t take myself as a serious member of the team! Mikhail was right! I do suck and I will only be a liability for the team!”

“You won’t be, Yura, you know that.”

“Fuck if I know! I do know that I can land a simple double flip on a good day! A fucking double!”

“We’ve all been there, Yura, it’s just tough luck that this happens at the Olympics.”

“I just know that I’m the weakest in the whole team and I do not like it.”

“At least you’ve got a team. That doubles your chances on a medal.”

“Aaaaand now I feel like shit. Thank you, Beka!”

Otabek chuckled and their Skype chose this exact moment to freeze his image in a rather ridiculous way. Yuri snorted.

“What’s Victor’s plan for your program? Isn’t it short notice to change it now?”

“I’ve already practiced it a little in the past. It’s basically a clinical version of Agape. Which reminds me, I have to wear a different outfit. Last time I wore it, the zipper broke! Urgh! I hate this!”

“Clinical version?”

“He hopes that without any elements that require strength, coordination or flexibility I can manage to work myself through the program and get enough points as not to suck.”

“No strength, no coordination and no flexibility? So he basically wants you to act as a stick and glide from one end of the rink to the other? Well, Yura, that’s genius. Even you can manage this now.”

“Fuck you too, Altin!”

 

\--

 

He did not now it was possible for him to feel this bad because of his nerves. At the second to last day of their team training camp (can it be camp when they lodged in a 4 star hotel?) he lay wide awake in his hotel bed, listening to Victor’s little snores, staring at the ceiling and hoping to not throw up any minute now. He had heard you could die if throwing up and laying on his back, maybe this would spare him further humiliation?

The team had performed their routines at the end of the day, calculating the basic points of each program as if they were the judges. Yuri didn’t need to see the numbers to know that he was way below the rest of them. His grandfather had visited during lunch and his words of how proud he was and how amazing Yuri was, did not help at all.

And now, in the early morning hours, he felt desperate.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Silently he slipped out of his bed and unplugged his phone. Grabbing his keycard and his team jacket he exited the room. The hallway was deserted and he found a little lounge area at the end of it.

Inhaling deeply he hit call on his phone. Yuuri accepted after the fifth ring.

“Yurio? Everything alright? Did something happen? Is Victor with you?”

“Fuck, Katsudon, everything’s ok! The geezer’s not dying or anything! And that’s not my name!” Yuri could hear a small exhale on the other end.

“Well, you can’t blame me to be worried when you call me at… nearly two in the morning?”

“How come you can even answer? Shouldn’t you be training by now?”

“I’m doing stretches. My phone happened to lie on the bench.”

“Oh.” He was at a loss of what to say next.

“Yuri?” Katsudon’s voice had this obnoxious parental note that never failed to send a lump in his throat. “Is everything okay?”

“How…” he gulped another breath down. “How… do you… do it… when everything’s suddenly too much? When you feel that everyone’s so much better than you and there’s nothing you can do about?”

“Ah.” He was silent for some time and Yuri wondered if the connection has been lost. “I breathe. I try to ground myself. I tell myself that maybe I cannot do any better now, but that I can work hard enough. Harder and stronger than everybody else.”

Despite himself he chuckled. “That’s a lie.”

“Hah, caught me! Yeah, I don’t do that. But that would be my advice for you. Also do you remember that breathing technique that I do when I’m panicking? Try that! I know it sounds silly, but it really helps!”

“Ok. I think I’ll try to get some sleep and you better go back to your stretches! I want you to be in top form at the games!”

“Will do! Good night, Yuri, work hard!”

“Yeah, you too… and uhm… thanks, Yuuri.” He switched the call off fast, but not fast enough to hear the startled gasp.

Victor, Mila and Yuri traveled back together with Natalya to St. Petersburg after the 5 days together with the rest of the team and all of them tried to prepare for the games that suddenly loomed way closer on the horizon with the camp at their backs.

Yakov and Victor deemed him not only a danger for himself but also for others on the ice and he was banished into the caverns of hell, ruled by the devil herself. Aka Lilia's ballet studio. She too knew better than to force him into actual positions and made him do stretches and Yoga with several strength and conditioning exercises in between.

He honestly felt like an double amputee during a zombie apocalypse that everybody dragged around because it would be morally too questionable to leave him behind.

“You have to kill yourself to be born anew. There is beauty in every new cycle,” Lilia used to say when his face got contorted into pain.

“Certainly feels like dying,” he muttered under his breath but knew better than to talk back to her.

He pretended the tears of frustration that stung in his eyes came from his aching muscles that could finally relax only under a hot shower.

Worst of all with all the time spent at the rink his and Otabek's Skype time was cut drastically short and their conversations hovered around only one topic. The Olympics.

The fucking word followed him like a nightmare. Not enough that it's all everybody's talking about, but it gets thrown at his head whenever he leaves either the rink or Lilia's house. Reporters swarm every skater's home and trainings facility. One time a reporter managed to get way too close and shoved his phone under his nose

“Yuri Plisetsky! How do you feel not to be able to compete under the Russian flag? How is your standing in the team? What do you say for the fact that your program has the lowest base score? Do your teammates expect anything from you?”

Yuri had been so shocked he could just blink several times with big wide eyes at the obnoxious man until mercifully and broad security guard shoved himself between them. He felt a hand on his elbow, but the spicy cologne told him it was Yakov who dragged him into the lobby of the rink.

Later Victor found him on the benches in the locker room going through Yuuri's breathing technique.

When the day of departure finally arrived Yuri was close to shedding tears of relief.

Because after the Olympics he could finally crawl into a cave and never come out again.

\---

He's bunking with Victor and Alexey in the Russian House, which mustn't be called Russian House.

Anastasia and Mikhail are married and get a suit. Yuri doesn't really care. But he does care how Victor's grating on his nerves again by proclaiming how he's not allowed to share a suit with his beloved fiancé. Yuri has just the best of luck and had to witness their reunion and the resulting PDA. Katsuki softly touches the back of his hand and mouths “you ok?” He just nodded mutely and lets his hair curtain his eyes once more, feigning annoyance with his captain’s antics.

The Kazakhstani delegation arrived one day after the Russians, but that means still five more days to kill until his Short. Otabek rented a bike and it seems as if he can only calm down with the frozen winds dashing around him, his cheek pressed against the familiar leather jacket. It is too cold for longer trips, but Yuri relishes in them nonetheless.


	2. PART II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like stated in the previous chapter notes I've mixed a lot of stuff from last year's olympics and Sochi.
> 
> I'll mark them at the end of the chapter.
> 
> Please mind the Underage Drinking. Yuri's going to be 18 one month after the games so everybody's a bit lenient on that matter...

 

 

 

 

 

**PART II**

 

 

The day before the games officially start Victor calls them all together and they spend the evening with exchanging stories, laughter and a bunch of silly games. It takes the edge off things only to come clashing back again at night when his only companion again is the sight of the ceiling.

He's tempted to call Yuuri again, but guilt keeps him in check. Instead he calls the only other person who he's certain to understand him.

Otabek meets him at a plaza somewhere in the middle of their houses. His hair is sleep muzzled and he's wearing his boots over his pyjama pants, but he's here and opens his arms for him.

They don't speak, Otabek just holds him as he tries to find his breath again. He neither comments on the hiccups nor on the dampness that seeps into his shirt. He just rubs his head and hums an unknown melody with his dark voice. When he finally regained the feeling in his toes again and recognizes it as coldness he harshly rubs his face and looks down at Beka. He just raises his eyebrows in question as he plugs one golden strand of hair behind his ear. Yuri nods at the silent question.

When they arrive at the OAR quarters hand in hand a shadow shifts from the entrance and Victor peels himself out of a thick blanket. He beams at them and opens the door for Yuri, enthusiastically waving Otabek a good night.

Yuri is way too winded and doesn't fight the tight hug from Victor. He does roll his eyes though as he tugs him in and stops him with a glare as he tries to kiss his forehead.

The next day alternates between too fast and too slow.

He'd drawn fourth. Not a bad place for a circuit of ten.

“Okay Team! Listen up! Like discussed we will split like this. Single skater's to Yura, Pair skaters go with Misha and Nastya! And nooooow! GROUP HUG EVERYONE!”

Yuri makes a gagging sound as Natalya and Mila squish him between them, but secretly he's glad. He likes the team, his team. He can talk with Alexey and Nastya freely, but will clash with Marina at any given time. It doesn't feel that different from his home rink.

“Good luck, Yurotchka,” Mikhail wishes him as they have to split for their designated rinks.

“Tsk, because I need it?”

But Mikhail just laughs. “Of course you need it! We strap blades under our shoes and try to jump in them on ice! Every skater needs it!”

“No, but seriously. You can do it Yurotchka. You're our Ice tiger. Let them hear your roar!”

His new costume has more black than white in it, yet it still follows the Agape theme. He can see his fellow skaters from the rest of the circuit in the ranks of spectators. His eyes fall on Otabek and he's not swinging a Russian or an OAR Flag but something that looks like a... where the fuck did Beka get a flag with tiger stripes!?

Their eyes meet and he mouths a Davai! Yuri grins and returns his thumbs up.

Then suddenly the warm up is done and the skaters before him have performed in the blink of an eye. He glides on the ice and feels at home.

Yuri eyes the boxes of the participating countries, looking over JJ and the Crispinos and stops at Yuuri. His rival for the short program who would skate last today. Yuuri'd been in full Eros mode all over the day, but now his features soften and he offers a small smile.

Finally his eyes land on Victor. Victor nods and smiles full of confidence.

Yuri had skated in fury in the past, consumed by rage, he'd skated analytically, he had had skates where he couldn't even remember what he'd done. But never before had he skated for something else than just himself.

And this time he skated careful, yet determined. This was not the ungraspable and frightful Agape of the past. This was selflessness in its purest form. He threw away his pride, threw away his own ambitions and his greed. What remained was utter altruism, the desire to give it all for the team.

He'd decided against triples, opting for doubles, but landed those flawlessly. Lilia's stretching had done its deed when he went into his Bielman and he could hear it in the audience.

He skated for his team, he skated for Victor, for Mila. For Yakov and Lilia, for his grandfather who got up at an ungodly hour to watch him on TV. Heck, he even might skate for Yuuri!

And he skated for Beka. Soldering on despite everything the world threw in his way.

And suddenly, as soon as it had begun, it was over again.

He scooped up one of the white tiger plush toys, which were, hands down, the sole best thing about these games and headed out of the rink. Clipping his skate guards he was drawn into a crushing hug by Victor before he could even lift his second foot.

“Argh, let go of me you geezer!”

“I'm so proud of you Yura!”

In the kiss and cry he clutched his white tiger as he received his personal best scores for both presentation and interpretation.

Lilia patted his knee and Yakov clapped his shoulder in a manly way to show him that he’s proud despite his comparable low score.

“And?”

“And what?”

“How do you feel now?”

Yuri scowled at Victor's question. He'd come in second, but the big shots were still to come. Yuuri and JJ alone beat him in the base score by far.

He wanted to tell him of the clarity that had come with the end of his program, the feeling of being lighter than air. It was not marvelous, it was no record breaker. But it was the best he'd ever felt after a skate. Because he could confess with himself that he'd truly done his best. As his body was now, this was the best he was capable for now.

He wanted to say all those things, but what came out was: “Whatever, aren't you too eager to watch your Katsudon skating?”

The smirk Victor gave him was enigmatic and Yuri couldn’t read it clearly. That was before it melted into his heart smile and he started rambling about his amazing fiancé.

\--

Every good feeling he had dropped away one by one as each other skater took the ice. Katsuki domineered them. It was cruelly watching him as he sent JJ into second place, who’d lead by a wide margin, only to be thrown off in the end by an even bigger number. It was clear that he aimed for the gold this year.

Fucking 7th. Again. All of the good feeling after his skate had turned into bitter ash on his tongue and an evil monster was sitting in his guts, twisting and pinching them with every breath. Victor’s hand on his shoulder only burned, but no matter how many times he shrugged it off it would just come back again. What had he done that the world hated him so much. Everything had looked so bright! This was supposed to be his year! He stared at his bare ankles with abhorrence. He’d grown so much and so fast his training clothes didn’t fit right anymore. It wasn’t that visible in the oversized white jackets of the OAR, but it showed at the trousers. It showed that he could suddenly look Katsuki in the eyes, where he had to crane his neck in the past.

It showed in his skating.

He couldn’t help the small whimper as he curled into a tight ball, the monster in his inside, suddenly breathing fire.

Fucking 7th.

\--

The rest of the OAR delegation cheered as the figure skater’s entered their house. Mikhail and Anastasiya radiated over all of them having domineered the competition today. Many athletes clapped on Yuri’s shoulder or bumped his back as he made his way from the shuttle van to the community room in the center of the house. He couldn’t count how many “You’ve done great” or “Don’t think too harsh of yourself” he’s heard in the 10 minutes it took him to flee to his room.

But as much as he’d wished for, he couldn’t crawl under the blanket and hibernate for the rest of the Olympics. He barely had time to scrub the angry tears from his face as he heard a surprisingly tactful knock before Alexey and Victor entered. Yuri opted out and decided to take a shower in one of the community bathrooms that were also available in the hallways as the other two got ready in their room.

They were all ushered into big busses and Yuri found himself next to an overexcited Mila who practically vibrated in her seat on their way to the opening ceremony.

As much as he hissed and cursed at her enthusiasm proofed to be contagious and next to his utter disappointment and the loathing self-hatred inside his guts he got nervous on top of that. Great. Just fucking great.

“Loosen up a little bit, Yurotchka! It’s the Olympics! We’re here to have fun!”

No, he was here to win. And since that wouldn’t happen, he was here to fail. And last time he’d checked, failing was not falling under his definition of ‘fun’.

But Mila had learned early in their friendship to ignore his smoldering glare that caused a skier  to pale as he was so foolish and turn in his seat to look at them.

“What’s with you asshole?”

“Yura! Behave!”

He was about to open his mouth but someone shoved a metallic flask under his nose. Yuri looked up and saw the twinkling eyes of Mikhail.

“Vodka? Really? “

Mikhail shrugged sheepishly and Yuri didn’t fail to notice how he’d placed himself strategically in front of his wife so she wouldn’t see the flask.

Yuri threw him a glare as he took a big gulp from the bottle.

“Careful, Misha, he’s an angry drunk,” Mila called from his left.

Mikhail laughed. “Isn’t he angry in everything?”

 

The good thing about the opening ceremony is that it’s big. Like, really really big. And it was big enough for Yuri to become overwhelmed by all the lights, the reporters, the other athletes, the music, the-

Usually he’d become aggressive, withdrawing and lashing out at the same time, but now he’d welcomed it. The sheer amount of everything droned out all of his thoughts and feelings and he’d let himself become numb.

He was dimly aware of Victor’s hand on his shoulder or the suspicious look Katsuki threw him now and then, but other than that most of it was a blur.

When he’d later look at recordings of the OAR delegation entering the stadium he cringes every time the camera zooms into his faces. With his wide eyes and slack face he’d given the term “dear in the headlights” a nice new definition picture.

Yuri had cushioned his thoughts nicely and secluded until a snow plow in the form of one Jean-Jacqu-ass Leroy smashed into them.

To be fair, he did pass the Canadian a little bit closer than polite without even acknowledging him, but then again his mind was a little bit too occupied by not freaking out.

“Hey there, kitty cat, don’t you have a kind hello for your most favorite King?”

Yuri blinked once, twice and before he’d even registered who was there in front of him his subconsciousness had commanded his mouth to already reply to the boisterous moron. “Fuck off, asshole, or I’ll castrate you in your sleep before you can get the chance to reproduce to save us all from the misery of your extended genes!”

JJ looked pumped up, his brows furrowed in anger.

“Ok, easy there, Princess! No need to be that hostile. It’s not my fault that something crawled into your panties and died after you’d bombed so great on the ice today!”

“What did you just say?” Yuri all but hissed at him. His precious numbness was replaced by cold seething rage.

“Maybe you should grow up? But then again, growing’s your big problem right now, right? Maybe you should do us all a favor and get off the ice already like every other Russian one hit wonder before you!”

Yuri had taken one step towards the Canadian, his nails already digging painfully into his palms, as he felt a heavy hand on his torso, effectively pinning him to a chest.

“Easy there, tiger, what’s going on?” Despite his first thought it wasn’t Victor or Otabek but Alexej that had stepped in. His team mates question though was nearly drowned out by a high pitched gasp.

“Jean-Jacques Alain Alexandre Leroy! What in the Lord’s name do you think you’re doing!?”

Some part of Yuri’s brain took delight in JJ’s horrified paling face as none other than his sister, his girlfriend and his mother plopped up behind him.

“Mais maman, il a insulté mes gènes!”

“J'ai entendu exactement ce qu'il a dit! Et j'ai entendu ce que tu as dit! Je ne t'ai pas entrainé à oublier ton esprit sportif à la moindre provocation! Je suis tellement déçu-“

Yuri could only understand so much, but JJ shrunk with every word more and more and that was enough for him to relax in Alexey’s hold.

“ублю́док”

“Yura!” Alexey shook him lightly but it was clear that the fight had slipped from him and he released him, though he did keep a hand on his shoulder.

“Mr. Plisetsky! Mr. Dostov! We’re terribly sorry! The pressure is getting him, he’s a good boy, please accept our apologies!” Nathalie Leroy was obviously done for now with her son and turned towards the Russian athletes.

“Don’t worry, Madame Leroy! We all know how the blood can boil at competitions, nonetheless at the Olympics! No harm done!”

“We’re really really sorry.”

“It’s really ok, right Yuri?” Not trusting his voice he opted to nod over his deadly glare.

“Again, sorry.” After several other sorry’s from both Isabella and Sophie Leroy, who would compete in the Ladies singles, the small woman stood on her toes and grabbed the hem of JJ’s jacket to drag him away.

Somebody must’ve witnessed their spat and it made headlines.

_“A Canadian and Russian had a mysterious ‘verbal spat’ in PyeongChang_

_There was a heated verbal exchange between an Canadian and an Russian in PyeongChang and, while details are still foggy, Canada’s Winter Olympics team has said sorry._

_Photo via @OttawaCitizen”_

“I don’t need a nanny, Alyosha!” Yuri grumbled, but Alexey only chuckled.

“You did good today, you know that?”

“Yeah, right, because 7th is such a great place to achieve.”

 

The next day he was mercifully allowed to be dragged around by Guang Hong, Leo and Otabek for sightseeing. He didn’t know if word got out of his little clash with JJ (the Angels and JJ Girls were fast to interpret the headline to them) or if the other boys just had more tact (much more likely) than JJ, because none of them mentioned the team event at all.

Otabek made sure to drag them through the whole city, claiming to retrace the steps of his ancestors (he had a Korean great-grandmother), so when Yuri came back to the OAR house he was nicely exhausted and fell asleep almost immediately.

 

On the second day of the games the team split up again and this time Yuri stood next to Mila and Victor to cheer for Nataliya. There was the plan to get to the other stadium once all of the results were accounted for to support the Free Skate of the pairs, should the OAR team advance to them. Though with Nataliya’s current form and Mikhail’s and Anastasia’s lead nobody doubted that anymore. Yet Yuri couldn’t help the waves of cold sweat that drenched him from time to time when he thought about the ‘what if’. If they shouldn’t advance to the Free Skate’s it would be by no doubt his fault.

The team members from team Kazakhstan that decided to visit the spectacle and placed themselves behind the box of the Russian team and Otabek did his best to distract him.

“What’s this?”

“This is my Yura’s-freaking-out-oh-no-distract-him-with-kittens-Folder that it put together last week.”

“Seriously, Beka, now’s not the time for kitten videos-OH!”

“Is it working?”

“Fuck you, Beka! Of course it’s working! Didn’t you see how it fell down?”

The relief he felt as the results from the Ice Dancers came in was short lived though, because on their way to the van that would bring them to the Pair’s Free Skate Mila suddenly bolted to the left into a bathroom.

Bewildered Victor, Yuri and Yakov looked at each other.

“I’m way too old,” Yakov grumbled and turned down the hallway again.

Yuri could clearly see the struggle in Victor. For one he wanted to be a good team captain and be there for his team member, but on the other hand there was no way for him to enter a woman’s bathroom outside of the occasional drag he and Chris did in the past.

“Should I fetch Natalya…?” he asked hesitantly.

“Oh for fucks sake, grow a pair!” Yuri growled and marched into the bathroom.

“My ‘pair’ is exactly the problem here, Yura! So should be yours!” he tried to call after him but the closing door cut him off. Thankfully.

“Baba?” It wasn’t hard to locate Mila because all he had to do was to follow the retching sounds. “I’m coming in now,” he announced and opened the stall to find his friend crouched over the basin. With one hand he stroked over her back and tried to pin her hair back rather clumsily. After one last cough she appeared to be done and sunk down on the toilet seat.

“Urgh, Baba, don’t, think of all the germs.” Yuri Plisetsky may be one of the worst people when it came to consoling, but nobody could accuse him of cowardice. So he manned up in the women’s toilet and pulled Mila to lay on his chest, doing his best to breathe through the mouth in order to avoid the odour of fresh vomit. He knew how much Beka liked it so he racked his fingers through her side cut.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?”

This earned him a slimy sounding laugh and a swat on the arm.

“No. Just pathetic. Dunno which is worse.”

Yuri hummed without really answering, internally freaking out about his crying friend.

“It’s just… we’re going to do the Free Skate now… It’s just… I’m so nervous… Now I have to… and I kinda thought… I don’t have to and… I don’t know… it’s fucked up, right? I’ve been looking forward to it! But now that I really have to skate here in the Free? Yura, I’m scared shitless!”

He tried very very hard not to look relieved but continued to stroke her head.

“I think that’s normal, it’s our first Olympics. Except of course you’re an Olympian dinosaur like Vitya.” She laughed again, this time with even less sniffles.

“He really is an Olympian dinosaur. At least he has the ancient hair to match it!”

“Oh god! He totally does! But Baba, these are your words and not mine!”

They laughed a little bit more together and Mila used the time to gather her bearings again. It was in fact Victor’s fourth Olympics; starting with him tagging along at the age of 17 to France, winning unexpectedly to the world the gold medal despite his flaunting androgynous image and ending with gold in Sochi four years ago on home turf.

“Come on, let’s get to the car. Victor’s loosing hair outside because he’s too much of a pussy to enter the girl’s restroom.”

“I’m thankful Yura that you’re man enough to come after me,” she did a dramatically swooning gesture.

“Damn right I am!”

 

This night he didn’t get any relief at all. The athletes were celebrating their advance and no matter how often he’d clung to Mikhail’s flask, he couldn’t shake the dread. If they didn’t medal now it would be his fault. No matter how nervous Mila was, she couldn’t skate as bad as he did. And there was no chance in hell Victor would disappoint them. He partly wondered why Victor didn’t intervene in his path to drink himself into stupor and it wasn’t until much later that he found out that Mikhail had watered down the vodka in his flask for this purpose.

So when it came to the Men’s Free skate he looked very much the zombie he felt he was. The white OAR scarf over the grey jacket only helped to put the deep blue bags under his eyes into the spotlight as well as the devastating shape of his skin. Even his hair had betrayed him today. He’d tried to go to Lilia for help, but she’d just shoved an elastic into his hand which he wore now around his low ponytail.

He tried to ban the dark feelings, he really tried! He knew this was supposed to be the time of his live. He knew he was petty and insecure and downright an asshole. He really tried. But when he saw Kenjirou struggling so much, obviously so far behind the skills of his fellow competitors, he felt ugly schadenfreude at someone in the same predicament as he was. When Leo de la Iglesia landed his first quad Lutz in a competition he felt dread about yet another skater overpowering him. When JJ skated so powerful fuelled by the cheers of his team he became so irrational angry that his fingernails broke yet again into the not yet healed skin of his palms.

And when Victor took the ice and the lead with such easy, grace and confidence he felt downright sick with jealousy. The arena was exploding when he warmed up, it was totally clear who was the living legend here. His program was executed flawless and heartfelt and with a lightness as if he wanted to say ‘Oh, the Olympics? Dear me, you should’ve told me! I would’ve worn something special. I’m just here to have fun, honestly!’

He felt a little bit better when he was able to toss his depressive thoughts and feelings aside and follow after Mila again into the bathroom. This time though it wasn’t empty and he suddenly saw himself face to face with Sophie Leroy. She looked torn between wanting to console the vomiting Mila and desperately wanting to mind her own business.

Sophie drew in breath as if to say something but was at a loss at what. Yuri just jerked his head towards the last stall and Sophie nodded slowly.

“Mila? It’s me. Open the door.” He was not prepared with the door flying open and slamming into the wall with a bang. And he was definitely not prepared for Mila’s death glare directed at him.

“What’s with that Mila crap? I’m not dying, am I?”

“Uhm…”

“Then what the fuck is your problem, Plisetsky?”

“Uh, you, er –uh”

“I’ll tell you what, you little shit! I’ve trained my whole fucking live for these games and I will not let a little bit of fucking nerves get between me and that fucking medal! Did I make myself clear!?”

He didn’t answer but gaped like a fish.

“So tell me! Can I do this or not?”

“Baba, if somebody can do this, then it’s you.”

“Fucking damn right! Now be a good boy and flush that toilet for me, while I go out there and whip everybody’s ass!”

 

Yuri went back to the box after fetching Mila her eyeliner and a water bottle, aware of the snicker that Sophie Leroy sent after him.

“You ok, Yura? Is Mila fine?” Victor leaned back into his seat to talk to him.

“Women are fucking scary.”

Victor’s eyes went huge and Mikhail’s and Alexey’s hands clapped him on the shoulder. In this rare moment of male camaraderie Yuri was glad to be with them on the team.

 

He may have been scared of Mila in the bathroom (not that he would admit that out loud. Like. Ever!) but seeing her on Olympic ice was downright terrifying and he thanked that stars for making him a boy, because dear lord, he did not want to compete against… that!

She was a menace in the rink, her hair like fire and Yuri wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d left a trail of flames behind her blades. Before he knew it, he was standing and cheering loudly with the rest of the team for her.

While the Short Programs took place in different stadiums the remaining Free Skates took place one after another, but with both Victor’s and Mila’s first place it was mostly clear by now that they’d stand on the podium. He suddenly became aware under which pressure Mila stood, performing that late in the competition.

And at the end of the day he was suddenly struck down by the realization that he would be awarded a silver medal. And not any silver medal. No. An Olympic silver medal.

The knowledge came with all the grace and gentleness of a sledge hammer.

Suddenly Victor rushed him to lace up his skates, which appeared to be getting smaller and smaller every day, while Mila and Nataliya screeched into his ears with excitement, shaking his shoulders from both sides. Mikhail kissed his wife long and slowly and Yuri had to avert his eyes. His team got called out onto the ice for the flower ceremony right after the skates and while he could hold up the act on the ice at any time he clung desperately to the small white tiger plush that was handed to him.

The Angels made a compilation of all the pictures where he looked like a comet was about to strike him after the games and Yuri had to admit: he’d given them a lot of material.

He felt slightly sick while they celebrated in a huge team hug; the joy and excitement of the others drew him in, but looking back he’d felt rather detached from his body, the ride from the rink towards the place where the medal ceremony would be held all but a blur.

Yuri remembers grumbling to Victor why he had to be the last in line and how startled he was as the announcers called his name first (yep, there is the centerpiece of his about-to-be-executed-collage courtesy of the Angels). He did have to smile though as he spotted Beka’s tiger striped flag in the crowd. Mila dancing excitedly on her toes beside Victor. Victor, who gave the German woman from the IOC committee such a charming wink that Yura could’ve sworn he saw a trail of nosebleed from her as she awarded him his fourth Olympic medal.

What he did feel though, was pride for his team members. Especially Mila. And not even JJ’s ridiculous charming voice could shake this from him as he sang Oh Canada from the top of his lungs.

 

\--

 

“Here you are.”

Yuri didn’t seem to notice Victor as the older skater slid out of the door to the empty veranda in the back of the OAR house. He proceeded to spin his silver medal in front of his eyes, dangling from the bright blue and pink ribbon. It was a beautiful medal, the design much nicer than the ones from Vancouver.

Victor proceeded to watch the boy, waiting to be acknowledged. He wasn’t much older when he’d attended his first games, but in a much better physical shape.

“Yura,” he said in a gentle voice. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t deserve this.”

“This was a team event. You’ve earned it as much as everybody else.”

“If I’ve skated as good as I did last year, we would’ve won gold.”

Victor exhaled through his nose and scooted closer, pulling one arm over bony shoulders. It was a clear sign of how distressed the boy was when he didn’t shake it off.

“But if you’ve skated not as good as you skate right now, we would’ve made bronze. Or not medalled at all.” Ok, this was not the right thing to say. Yuri stopped his spinning and curled into himself with a pained whimper.

“Why did you do this to me, Vitya? Why did you drag me into the team event?” His voice cracked and sounded wet.

Ok, Victor, cool down, you’re the worst person on the planet when it comes to dealing with crying people, but this is Yura, so pull yourself together!

“Why didn’t you ask for Dimitri?” Dimitri Stroyada was sore point in Yuri’s side. The Russian skater two years his senior had placed second in nationals and 9th in Europes and even though he was not really Yuri’s level, he’d feared pretty much to be replaced by him. Thankfully there were three slots available for the eligible Russian athletes.

“Because I wanted to have you at my side, Yura.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Yura-“

“My stupid changing body cost you an Olympic gold medal! How can you be so damn nice!?”

“Your skill earned us a silver medal!”

“Bullshit!” Yuri glared through wet lashes and braced himself to stand up. Victor tightened his grip and pulled Yuri flush down with him again. The lack of fight spiked concern in Victor, but he wouldn’t back down now.

“Yura. Please. Look at me.” He searched with his fingers for the cool medal and held in up close their faces. “This. Yura. This you have earned for all the hard work you did, for all the time you poured into your skating. You ask why I insisted to list you for the team event? Because this is my investment for the future! This is me making sure that in four years our country has someone to look up to, to lead them into the next games! I cannot see Dimitry doing it, or Ivan, or any of the other Juniors. But when I think of the future, I see you in it and I see you on the podium!”

He didn’t know if his words had reached the boy, who stared with an intense glare at him, his features not betraying any of his thoughts.

Victor sighed heavy. “I’m clearly too drunk for this.”

“At least you have an excuse of being ridiculous now.” Yuri’s voice sounded small and resigned.

“Or not drunk enough…” Victor furiously rubbed his face before he continued.

“If it helps you a little more… think of this… silver medal as the accumulation of all of my hair that I lost whenever I thought about you overthrowing me.”

“W-what?” Yuri spluttered and cleared his nose rather undignified.

“I’m so sorry, Yura, but I had a long and hard time of figuring out why it was so easy for me to act so nasty towards you. And I can’t believe I’m telling you this, I’m pretty sure someone spiked my drink- Because truth to be told… whenever I saw you skating in Juniors or even just training I was… well, scared shitless. I was ridiculously glad to be so much older than you in the hope we’d never had to cross paths in seniors. Because I never really knew if I could beat you-“

“Vitya-“

“Hush, let me finish. Yes, I had these fears and I still have them, but if the whole season with Yuuri has taught me something was to be an adult and face my fears. We figure skater grow up way too fast and not at all and when our time on the ice is up, we’re just children that never learned to really live.

What I want to say is. Yura, I’ve overcome my pettiness and come to see your potential. I saw it when you beat me at Nationals last year. And one thing became clear to me: if there is the opportunity to have you at my side on the ice I’d fight heaven and hell for this chance than to just have you as my opponent!”

Yuri’s mouth hung open and the world blurred as the tears began to fall. Victor didn’t comment on it and just pulled Yuri deeper into his embrace. He didn’t know how much longer they sat on the veranda as Yuri cried all of his bottled up emotions into his grey tracksuit.

“You’re such an idiot, Vitya” Ah, there was his favourite kitten again. Silently he handed him a tissue he’d prepared in advance. He had this parenting thing nailed down. Like. Totally.

“I mean it, though. Really. Call it ‘handing down the torch’, when speaking in Olympic terms!”

“Can you be any more extra?”

“Oh, I seriously can! Let me fetch my little torch that I bought for this occasion-“ but he was interrupted by Yuri’s laughter. The boy furiously rubbed his face with his hands, trying to get rid of the teary eyes feeling.

“Ok, with this I’ve done exactly everything that is required of me as the team captain! Oh! Just one more thing! Yurotchka! Do you think you can do me another favour?”

“What is it? Do you want another hug?” he squinted suspiciously. “I’m not apologising to JJ, though!”

“Who? No! I mean! I would like another hug, but! These are the Olympics! Yura, do me the favour and get really really drunk with me!”

When he was later asked about the infamous Olympic parties he claimed to have an acute episode of memory loss.

Because it had been one hell of a party.

As soon as he and Victor entered the community room they were greeted with cheers of the drunken and celebrating athletes and trainers.  He was dragged into a lifting competition with Marina and Alexey. It was strangely comforting and scary at the same time that even after his growth spurt Mila was able to bench press him into several positions. Marina was impressed with his inner core strength and asked him for advice.

“To our silver! And to our future!” Mikhail and Victor started the first of many toasts and they all knocked their vodka shots back. Gladly nobody gave a fuck about drinking age.

Sometime later Victor dragged them out and they joined the bigger party in the centre of the village, where the American and Canadian team were already at large.

Yuri was very pleasantly drunk.

“Yuri! Yuri! Plisetsky! Yuri!”

“Wha-?” Through his drunken stupor he could see Leo de la Iglesia and Guang Hong carving their way through the celebrating athletes, followed by Phichit and Otabek.

“Yuri!” Leo clasped his hands and looked at him with a crazed expression.

“It was real, wasn’t it? Do you also feel so… high?”

Yuri’s mouth opened and closed like a stranded fish before his eyes went wide and he reciprocated Leo’s grip. “Yes! Yes!!! I felt like when they removed my wisdom teeth and everything got so-“

“Fuzzy around the edges? You were not really sure you were there???”

“Yes! How do you know?! Exactly like that!”

“Oh Lord, and I thought I was going crazy! It was the same for me, too!”

“So it wasn’t just my fucked up live?”

“Which fucked up life? You just won a silver medal, a fucking Olympic silver medal!”

“Holy shit, you’re right!”

“You just realized it now, didn’t you?” Otabek interrupted their excited yelling. Yuri’s drunken gaze darted over to his friends and it took him some seconds until he could focus on Otabek.

“Beka!” he screamed at the same time as Leo yelled “Otabek!”

Yuri let go of Leo’s hands and put his arms around Otabek’s neck, swaying them both dangerously on the slippery ground.

“Beka, that tiger flag was awesome! Where did you get it?”

“I made it myself, actually. Once you know what to do a sewing machine’s not that hard to figure out. Bought the fabric on Aliexpress, though.”

Yuri’s eyes got comically wide and he straightened his posture as he took Otabek’s face into his hands and stared down at him like he was something furry and precious.

“Otabek Altin, you’re the most amazing person on this planet! I love you so much. I love you like I love… Potya! You’re like… my ref... rever… my anti- Potya!”

“Anti-Potya?”

“What’s a Pot-ya?” Guang Hong stage whispered to Phichit, who hadn’t moved in the past 3 minutes in order to keep his recording arm steady as he was holding his cell phone.

“I was about to ask the same,” Leo said in the same hushed tone.

“That’s the name of his cat. Now hush! Forget your bronze medal, this is pure gold!” Phichit answered while not taking his eyes from the friends.

“Yes!” Yuri loudly yelled and Otabek winced at the poor volume control of his friend. “You see! You always just wear black only. And that’s fine and all, cuz’ you’re so cool you can pull it off. And your face and hands are white. And Potya’s just the other way round! Her face and paws are all black and her fur’s white!” Yuri grinned brightly and blindingly at the end of his explanation.

“That’s nice of you to say, Yura-oof!” Otabek had to steady himself as Yuri slumped down on his shoulders again and Otabek had to support their combined weight now.

“How drunk are you, Yura?”

“Hmmm… lots!”

Leo broke under Otabek’s angry gaze and hurried to his side and they both struggled to keep Yuri upright.

“Victor made me do shots. Lot’s’n’lot’s’n’lotsofthem!”

“Speaking of Victor, where is he?” Leo asked as he scanned the crowd of partying athletes.

“He went to hunt down Yuuri,” Phichit informed them. By now nobody questioned Phichit’s never ending information source any more. “Yuuri wanted to stay in but it seems as if Victor got different plans.”

“Maybe we should head home as well? At least try to bring Yura home?” Otabek tried weakly, but earned himself twin protests from Guang Hong and Leo.

“Liste, up, Altin!” Yuri was suddenly up in his face again, but this time with a much more furious expression. “My career and my life has been sho much shit this year and I just wanna crawl under a rock for the summer and either die or stop growing so I can scrape together what’s left of my skating. But today I won a fucking Olympic medal! Ask Leo! He was there! And there’s no force in hell that’ll stop me from enjoying it until I forget. Did I get myself clear?!”

“You did, Yura.”

“Good! Now get me some Kvass, anti-Potya!”

 

\--

 

Yuri woke up perfectly warm, but with the feeling of grime stuck on his skin, a tongue the size of a potato and the texture of a sock and the impression of a glowing hot dagger behind his left ear piercing into his skull.

He tried to scowl out of reflex, but regretted it fast. As he sat up he couldn’t help the little whimper when the world rotated way too fast around its axis. A look around cleared his surroundings. He’d spent the night in a puppy pile of skaters and judging by the flags and tacky décor on the walls he was at the American house.

Otabek had curled around the space that was previously occupied by Yuri’s head and around them lay various members of the American skating team, the Crispino twins, that Spanish skater guy, Minami Kenjirou and Phichit. On a sofa right next to them were Guang Hong and Leo snuggled together. Under the sofa he could see a Canadian team jersey and he just knew that JJ was down there.

A quick pat down confirmed his missing phone, he could only hope he’d left it in his room. It was just after seven in the morning and he was still very much drunk. Yet the idea of laying back down held no appeal to him and he sat very still while he debated on whether to get up or not.

Finally reaching his decision he carefully turned around again and stroked Otabek’s head gently to wake him up. He might’ve poked him a little harsher than intended in the ear but that was only because his motion control was not the best while drunk.

Otabek opened one eye and glittered angry and in obvious pain up at him. “I hate you, Plisetsky.”

“… yeah…” Yuri honestly wasn’t able to form any form of coherent reply to that. “’m going back to the house… wanted to tell you so you don’t worry…”

“Maybe worry next time before you drag me in a drinking contest!”

Yuri just stared at him and swayed. “Kay.”

“Wait. I’ll come with you. My hips are killing me.”

They managed to pull each other up without disturbing too many of the others. Now Yuri could see that his female team members were also curled up somewhere in the room with some people he didn’t know the names of.

Their walk home was silent and as they reached the fountain that marked their respective ways they hugged briefly bevor Yuri had to ask. “Did I really call you Potya yesterday?” Otabek just snorted and wobbled down his path.

The crisp air helped him clear his head, but by the time he reached the very warm OAR house his stomach was revolting and he suddenly felt dead tired again.

As he opened his door he was greeted by the characteristic snore of intoxicated males. Alexey’s bed was as untouched as his, but Victor obviously hadn’t spent the night alone.

“Yuri!” Yuri squinted at the picture of a very desperate looking Yuuri Katsuki currently pinned to the bed by Victor’s vice cuddle grip. Katsuki managed to extend one hand pleadingly. “Yuri, please, thank god, please, help me! Victor kidnapped me around midnight straight from my bed and he’s out cold! I really really need to use the bathroom! He hasn’t moved since four hours!”

Yuri just stood there unmoving and unable to process what was asked of him. Finally something in the back of his mind clicked and he took two steps towards the bed. He bent down and pinched the underside of Victor’s naked arm (urgh, he was very naked all the way down, he didn’t need to know that!). Victor’s snoring halted and he grunted in pain and rolled onto his back. Yuuri used the momentum and manoeuvred himself out of the bed. With an undignified oompf he landed on the thick carpet floor.

“Better use that bathroom quick, Katsudon. Gonna be hogging the bowl real soo-!” he couldn’t finish his sentence, because whatever had crawled into his stomach to die wasn’t dead yet and tried to climb back out.

Katsuki probably retreated to one of the bathrooms on the hallway, because Yuri already crouched down in their ensuite bathroom. He didn’t know how long he was vomiting bevor Yuuri redid his messy ponytail so his hair wouldn’t get in the way. When it was clear he was only dry heaving and not even yellow bile would come out, Yuuri wet a small towel and cleaned his face. Yuri groaned in relieve at how good the cool towel felt against his hot skin and he slumped heavily against Katsuki, his head rolling limp on his shoulder. Yuuri snorted a little laugh and placed the towel in his neck as he petted his hair and hummed a little tune.

“Do you think I can get you back to bed, Yuri?”

“Dunstop.”

“Bed, Yuri, how does that sound?”

“… good.”

“It does, doesn’t it? And up you go!” Some part of his brain wondered where Katsuki took the strength to haul him in a standing position. He was pliant and docile as Yuuri lead him back into the room and stripped without hesitation at Yuuri’s command.

“Why are you wearing a Team America Shirt?”

“Like football.”

“Huh?”

“Leo’s. Leo got mine. Though I’ve gotta send him an proper Russian one.”

“Yeah? That would be nice. I’m sure he would like that. Now lay down. There, good boy.”

“’mnotadog.”

Yuuri chuckled. “Oh, no, Yuri, you’re a cat. Always have been. A very grumpy, hissy, clawing hungover cat.”

“Canlive ithat,” he mumbled and snuggled deeper into his comforter. Yuuri flitted around the room a little bit more, checking on his husband and putting painkillers, bottles of water and some snacks on their night stands. He also placed the trash bin filled with a thin film of water next to Yuri’s bed.

Yuri twitched violently but accepted the cool cloth on his forehead with a thankful groan.

“Try to sleep some more Yuri, it seems as if you had an awesome night.”

“Called Beka Potya.” Yuuri blinked confused. While he was an expert for drunken slurring in Russian by now those words didn’t make any sense. Maybe Yuri was just listing things he liked. He stroked once more over Yuri’s blond hair and watched how the twitching behind his eyelids decreased and his breathing evened out. With a fond smile he stood up and watched the young boy. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to suffer too much later that day. Mercifully their remaining competitions at the end of the games, so he had time to get back on his feet.

With a scowl though he turned to Victor, who’d started his drunken snoring concert again. Victor had barged into the Japanese quarters and had started to give vodka shoots to Minami bevor he sent him off to the party on the main plaza with the other skaters. Yuuri was adamant on not partying so Victor picked him up from his bed, slung him over his shoulders and carried the shrieking and kicking Yuuri back to his bed where he collapsed from who knows how much vodka and immediately passed out with Yuuri pinned under him.

Yuuri pulled one silver strand out of his face and gently kissed the top of his head, wrinkling his nose at the foul breath. He stole one of Victors coat and Yuri’s thick snow boots and made his way back to his own bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene between Victor and Yuri where the parting champion hands over the torch to the rising one was the key piece to which this whole fic was built around.  
> And I cried like the little girl I am while writing it :""D
> 
> Now for the notes:
> 
> \- The Verbal Clash between a Canadian and a Russian really happened! The tweet I'm quoting exists!
> 
> \- I've based Yuri's score on Mikhail Kolyada's performance at the SP at the 2018 team event
> 
> \- Victor being 17 at his first Olmypics: I shit you not, I've written it just like that, because in Ep 10 he shows off his Gold Medals and one is clearly the Olympic Gold medal from Turin, but in reference of the ICE ADOLESENCE Trailer I've changed it to the Olympics in France :)  
> Maybe I'll change it again, when we get more information!
> 
> \- Team Hugs on the Ice are a thing and the Russians looked like porrige, because the OAR tracksuits appear grey xD
> 
> I had a field day in writing Yuri drunk and calling Beka his anit-Potya and have to go with Phichit in this: this was pure gold!!!  
> All of his behaviour is drawn from personal experience xD
> 
> And can we also appreciate a love starved Victor Nikiforov kidnapping his adorable boyfriend in the dead of the night right out of his bed???


	3. PART III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the third and final part of the stories!  
> I'll hope you'll enjoy it as well! \0/
> 
> As always the notes at the end explain why I've decided on things :D

 

 

 

 

**PART III**

 

 

 

The unspoken rule was: his coaches didn’t ask, he didn’t tell.

It was a miracle, but every detail regarding the infamous Olympian parties never really made it outside of their circle. Yuri was sure that Phichit got a sick delight from baiting his followers with little hints and suggestions, but never really uploading anything real juicy.

It was kind of torturous that the team events took place at the very beginning and the single skates at the very end of the games. Yet it gave him time to spend some time with his best friend and the other people he tolerated (Mila would try in vain for him to call them friends as well. They weren’t on the same level as Otabek. Nobody was.), exploring the villages and the surrounding cities.

JJ was genuinely confused at Yuri’s hostile behaviour. “But chaton! Don’t you remember? We made up at the party?” No, Yuri did not remember, yet Phichit was fast and provided him with the video evidence of them hugging and slurring sorry’s at each other.

He spent a nice day together with Mari, Minako and Yuuko, who’d flown in early to support Japan’s ace. Mari got along terrifyingly good with Otabek’s older sister.

She’d arrived together with their father and two cousins in the middle of the games to support the baby of the family. Suddenly he was introduced to Otabek’s father with about zero time to prepare. His fears were uncalled for, since Alibek Altin was a funny little guy with a lot of laughing wrinkles who couldn’t explain how he’d got such serious children. He found out later that day that Otabek’s sister was an engineer in one of Kazakhstan’s space programs. His baby sister though had inherited their father’s good humour and mischievous nature, much to Otabek’s suffering. Yuri found himself a little bit sad that his only relative he’d cared for couldn’t make the journey. Nikolai Plisetsky had the health of a horse, but the two slipped discs in his spine forbade any longer travel. He would’ve done it, but Yuri had put his foot down and outright prohibited for him to show himself in Korea. The following argument was accompanied by a lot of flying stuff and broken plates and ended with Yuri video-chatting every day with his grandpa.

When the time finally rolled around Yuri found himself again in the by now familiar grip of dread and panic, no matter how distracting the others were. He felt as if his skates had gotten smaller again and indeed Yakov had to confirm it that he’d grown another centimetre after their last measurement.

Yakov didn’t even have the heart to yell at him during the days after. While he had had many students transitioning from boys to men, Yuri was the one with the worst bad timing of them all.

He skated with the feeling of a lamb lead to slaughter, eyes prickling from the pitying glances he got from all the other athletes. Lilia was nothing but an inspiration for him these days. Her hard grip and never ending demand of beauty and discipline were what kept him upright and his head held high.

After the short program he hissed furiously in pain as he slowly extracted his feet from his skates. The other skaters avoided their gazes in respect and Victor had to hold his shoulders tight so Lilia could peel his blood soaked socks away revealing his split toe nail.

“What’s your problem asshole?” Yuri spat venom at JJ who just wouldn’t look away.

“Yuri!” Lilia scolded him for his foul language and JJ only slowly shook his head.

“I really don’t get how you do it?”

“Huh?”

“Skate like this,” JJ ran a tired hand through his hair. While he’d skated well today, they all didn’t stand a chance against Katsuki. Yuri’d seen it way before the games even started how Yuuri had turned into his fulltime Eros-competition mode self. The morning after the team’s event was the only time he’d seen him different and back to his old self since the games have started. Yuuri Katsuki was a man on a mission and not even his husband could get in his way.

“You mean like fucking shit? Wow, thanks asshole, wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn’t pointed it out!”

“Yuri!” Yuri had jumped to his feet, but Victor was fast to follow. While the young skater now nearly reached Victor in height, he was still the physically weaker one and Victor was able to restrain him.

“Your shit skating still brought you into the Top 10 of the fu- darn Olympics! I seriously cannot understand how you can be in such a state and still skate that good!”

“I skated like shit!”

“Stop being a brat and degrade everybody beneath you who competed at the top of their game!”

JJ knew he’d won the argument when Yuri visible deflated against Victor’s hold. Lilia gave them both a look stating how very much not amused she was and exited the men’s locker room.

“Whatever. I’ve got more important things to do.” He huffed and shoved Victor from his shoulders.

“Ah, Yura you wound me! And here I thought I was finally allowed to hug you!”

“Shut up Victor!” Yuri struggled into his OAR Jersey and carefully slipped into the snow boots that were mercifully two numbers too big on him and therefor gentle to his injured feet. Kenjirou had returned them from Katsuki sometime during the last week when all of them went sightseeing in Seoul for a day.

With one last stinky eye to JJ, who now looked amused again, he stormed to the end of the room and gently held out his hand.

“Beka? Come on. I’ll bring you home.” Otabek perked up with a frightened look in his eyes. He’d spent the whole argument motionlessly staring at the wall. Almost robotically he’d let Yuri manoeuvre his limbs into his jacket and allowed to be led outside, Yuri carrying both their bags.

“Ah, he’s such a good kid! Shame he can’t show it more. I’m almost jealous of Beks!” JJ said wistfully.

Outside in the hallway Yuri made Otabek look at him, realizing though that nothing he could say would be of any help. Otabek had started his Short program with a badly flubbed jump and had now skated on a current 7th place. Yuri’d seen how over thinking he was during his performance, how much pressure was on his shoulders.

He knew in which state of mind his best friend was right now.

Outside of the rink he hailed one of the various shuttle vans and made sure to scare any possible additional passengers away so they got back to the Kazakhstani House in solitude. Yuri made sure Otabek ate a light dinner, that he was in comfortable clothes and that he had enough water and heat and ice packs should the need arise for his abused muscles.

“Okay, Beka, if there’s anything you need, text me. I can make the way in 13 minutes.”

For the first time since the hallway Otabek really looked at him again. Yuri’s heart shattered as he saw how lost his friend was. “Can you stay? I mean, a little longer?”

“Sure.”

They bundled up on the bed and Yuri loaded Brooklyn 99 from Otabek’s hard drive. Otabek as the only single skater sent to the games had a room for himself. After one episode Otabek had cuddled up to Yuri and Yuri had Otabek in a tight embrace. By now neither of them knew who was giving and who was actually receiving the comfort.

 

\--

 

“Did you even sleep this night?” Yuri asked and massaged his neck. It cracked audibly.

“Yeah.”

Yuri didn’t call him out on the lie.

He silently packed his stuff and with one last hug made his way back to the 13 minutes’ walk to his own room.

He pretended to ignore Victor and his stupid looks and his even more stupid questions.

 

\--

 

He was never one for vomiting due to stress, but apparently the Olympics brought out the worst in him and Mila must’ve rubbed off on him. Or maybe he was still hungover from the party two weeks ago. Lilia probably wouldn’t want to hear that excuse, he thought, as he crouched over the bowl.

He skated third in the second to last group and knew he ripped his presentation mark with the pain staked and furious face he made. He was past despair by now. He reached and settled into that one place that was so familiar with. Anger.

He was angry at his body, he was angry at the timing. He was angry at his toe to split in the short program. He was angry at JJ for pointing out his bratty behaviour and at being JJ in general. He was angry at Yakov and Lilia for forcing him out to get humiliated like that. And he was angry at himself.

At the end of his Free Skate his anger had reached a new level. Yuri downright hated himself.

But it all vanished into nothing as he saw… it.

He’d never witnessed perfection in something, but when he watched Otabek’s Free Program, he was sure he’d just seen something magical.

Otabek had skated two skaters after him and Yuri still hadn’t retreated into the competitors area. By no force in this world he would’ve wanted to miss this.

His friend skated like nothing else he’d ever seen before. Yuri felt every note, heard every emotion, saw every pain he portrayed on the ice. A quick look towards his coaching team confirmed it; Otabek had reached a level of presentation on the ice that even surpassed the living legend Victor Nikiforov.

One of the reasons Yuri never seeked out friendship in his childhood was because he couldn’t stand the idea of anybody being better than him. He’d always concluded that he’d hate everybody surpassing him in an instant. Yet as he saw to which heights Otabek crawled he didn’t feel hatred. He felt joy.

And suddenly everything had been worth it.

With grim satisfaction he saw skater after skater trying and failing to break his leading score. And at the end of the games only Katsuki and Victor managed to do so.

Otabek Altin had won the first Olympic medal for Kazakhstan in Figure Skating.

The medal ceremony was one of the last of the games. Victor was his usual happy self, but had to be restrained from stepping up to Katsuki before it was time, because the Japanese skater cried like a baby in the middle of the podium.

Minako and Yuuko had Yuri in a vice grip and bawled and slobbered at him simultaneously from left and right. Mari exhaled her smoke and simply smirked.

When it was finally time for the group photo Victor practically leaped up the step, gripped his husband and dipped him low in a long and Hollywood worthy kiss.

Yuri though had only eyes for Otabek. It would later be the only photos of Beka smiling on the podium.

The three medallists were finally released and Otabek’s eyes zeroed on Yuri. His friend lead him to the nearest bathroom and opened his arms. Otabek weped like a child in his arms, crying until his eyes were red and bloodshot, until a huge teary blotch was on Yuri’s parka and until his breath only would come short hiccups.

Yuri felt strangely honoured that Otabek granted him with this moment of personal weakness, before he gathered himself again and went to face the congratulation of his family, friends and the press jungle itself.

 

\--

 

Yuri skated at the exhibitions, but only as part of the team. Which was a shame, really, he’d brought a tight fitting leotard in tiger stripes that he thirsted to try out. Victor had bought it as a joke, but Yakov’s and Lilia’s panicked eyes indicated how much Yuri truly was considering wearing it.

Otabek skated his Eminem piece in a fucking translucent hoody and while Yuri desperately drank water to counter his suddenly dry throat; Mila next to him whispered breathlessly “Well, shit, now I’m straight.”   
As much as he loved her, Yuri suddenly had the urge to rip out every single one of her read hairs. One by one. He stumbled over the thought, genuinely puzzled what caused that violent reaction.

 

\--

 

“Yuratchka you don’t plan to come back without a tattoo, right?” His grandpa’s face was too close like always in the beginning of a skype call. Yuri spluttered insignificantly at the unusual greeting.

“Deda!? What the fuck?”

“Watch your fucking language, Yuratchka!”

“I can’t get a tattoo! I’m 17! In case you’ve forgotten the age of your own grandson?” Nikolai waved him away impatiently.

“Where’s Vitya? Get him in front of the phone!”

Yuri knew better that to argue with his grandfather. If he refused Nikolai would just hang up and call Victor himself, if Yuri got him now he’d at least hear both sides of the conversation.

“Nikolai! How are you?” Yuri cringed at Victor’s loud voice. How could the guy still be riding the high of his silver medal if he’d gotten so many already. They were currently in their shared room. Victor had occupied the bath, Alexey showered in the community bathroom down the hallway and Yuri had used the short window of privacy to call his Deda.

“Thank you! Quite fine! Congratulation Vitya! As always Russia’s Golden Child! Sadly you’re already so old and my Yuratchka will snatch all of your fancy titles from you in no time!”

“Thank you, Nikolai! I sure hope he does! But I’m coaching my Yuuri to not make it easy for him!” Victor was used by now to Nikolai’s fiercy pride of his grandson and the not so thinly veiled threads. He’d been envious of it a lot in the past, such a supportive family member was worth more gold than he’d ever won.

“Vitya, I actually have a favour to ask…”

Exactly two hours later Yuri found himself lying face down with a naked left leg and a comparable high blood alcohol level. Katsudon had finally given in to Victor’s influence and was equally intoxicated. Chris and his husband had come along and JJ and Leo had both dragged a flustered looking Otabek into the parlour where the two groups met by accident.

“You’re not 18 yet?” Otabek slurred and Yuri had to roll his eyes, which got the room spinning, about his choice of question to ask first.

“Deda instructed Victor to get it done.”

Otabek grunted as he absentmindedly pulled his shirt off, sitting down on the table next to Yuri, who’s world spinned a little bit more by the sight of Otabek’s naked breast. “Sounds like Deda,” he said as he laid down.

Yuri heard the sound of the needle and felt Victor’s hand on his shoulder. He tried to brace himself, but the pain right over his achilles tendon was way more than he’d anticipated and his whole body cramped. He let out a pained groan, shutting his eyes and grinding his teeth.    
Otabek stared at him and in his alcohol addled mind he suddenly thought it wasn’t such a good idea to get the rings tattoo’d in a rather unsanitary and makeshift tattoo shop just at the border of the athlete’s village.

“Well, Beks, you’ve decided where we should needle you?” JJ grinned wide and then turned towards the other korean tattoo artist, who’d already donned his gloves (at least he wore some). “Oh, and don’t forget to include his initials. It’s two J’s.”

“You Motherfucker!”

 

\--

 

“Thank fuck this season is finally over!” Yuri groaned and slumped down in his seat. The bus, filled with several athletes, most of them skaters, would bring them to the closing ceremony in the main stadium and was currently waiting for the last seats to fill.

“Aren’t you forgetting that there’s still worlds, Yuri?” Guang Hong asked, but Yuri only gave an undignified snort.

“Like hell I’ll go to worlds. The chance that I cripple myself permanently is way too high in my current state. You remember that rock that I told you about?”

“The one you want to crawl under and die?”

“Exactly. Just one more night and then it’s me and my precious rock and everything related to skating can just rot!”

JJ’s death wish was apparently back as he cackled loudly. “Just make sure to cheer for the King from the sidelines, princess.”

Yuri hopes that this damn growth spurt would come with more strength in the future at least, since there was no way someone as small as Guang Hong could hold him back from his quest to rip JJ’s vocal cords out.

He could make a lot more memories from the closing ceremony. He was still floating from the joy he felt for Otabek’s bronze medal yesterday and the exhilarating sting on his left ankle. This morning the skaters woke up in the Russian house in several states of disaster. Yuri woke up in Alexey’s bed together with Otabek, both of them thankfully dressed, with Alexey gone again. They were thrown out of his own room, because as clothed as they were, as naked were Mila and Sarah in his bed. The third woman was still fast asleep, she was facing the wall so Yuri couldn’t see who it was. 

He brought Otabek to the door and promised to meet him in the afternoon at the bus.

  
After the closing ceremony, where he took his first and only selfie of the games, everything went very fast. Yuri didn’t sleep at all, getting dragged from party to party by Victor, who was determined to make the most of his last Olympics. He was more asleep than awake when he finally slumped down in his seat of the plane that would bring him and the other OAR athletes back to Moscow. Victor took the seat next to him and tried to stretch his long legs.

“Yura-”

“You’re not getting the window seat. There’s no special treatment in the national team. We all have to fly coach.”

“I wasn’t going to ask for your seat, Yura-”

“Oh my god, why are you calling me that? Do you miss the Katsudon so much already, you’re already getting sentimental?”

“Yura!”

“What?”

“I-” he sighed heavily and combed through his silver hair. Huh, maybe his silver medal really was made out of Victor’s hair. Urgh, no, he was still way too hungover for his thoughts to got that way.

“I’m retiring.”

Yuri just stared at him.

“I still don’t know if I’ll participate at worlds. The next two weeks will show it. But at the games I felt how my discs are giving out. The doctors already warned me that this might be too much-”

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Yuri shot up to a stand, hitting the luggage rack with his head and swore even more colourful. Most of the other athletes looked up and went back to ignoring him, but two of the flight attendants made their way to them.

“Yura! Shit! Calm down or we can’t start!” Victor yanked him down by the elbow. “I wanted to tell you before I make a press statement. Nobody but Yakov and Yuuri know it, so please calm down!”

“And you think now of all times is the best time to tell me? When I have to fly more than 9 hours next to you with no space where I can fucking think about it and decide how to react? You know I can’t compete at worlds! And you’re telling me my motherfucking body might’ve missed my last chance to beat you for good?” He whispered angrily.

“Ah, well, I uhm probably didn’t think-”

“Yes, you fucking didn’t! Because you never think! Baba!” he called out and stood up, grabbing his backpack. “Change seats with me!” He waltzed down the aisle, glaring at the male flight attendant who’d asked him politely to take his seat or he would be thrown from the plane. Mila, who knew how fruitless it would be to argue with him if he was that angry, sighed heavily and gave up her seat in the middle row.

His anger was helpful to burn through his hungover and he felt more sober than in days. At least he would only look grumpy on the press photos and not grumpy and like he’d been dragged through a distille and back again.

When they’d departed the plane Victor stopped him again, but Yuri was faster.

“Are you moving to Japan? Leaving us again?” He asked before Victor could even open his mouth.

“Uh, no, I… we can’t. At least not until next year. Sponsorship deals and contracts and stuff. And our facilities are the best world wide, it would be stupid for Yuuri to give that up.” Yuri nodded harshly, still glaring murder from his eyes.

“Yura, I-”

“Listen ashole! I appreciate your sentiment. It was damn good of you to tell me first, because you’re right. If I would’ve learned it from the press you wouldn’t live to enjoy your retirement. So you did good. But you didn’t think it through. You just have shitty timing and and even shittier decision making skills! Do better next time!”

Victor’s face morphed into a kind smile, one of his real ones. They stood in the crowded aisle waiting for the doors to open and Victor tugged him into an awkward hug. Yuri was stiff but noticed how he could lay his forehead easily on Victor’s shoulder.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Yura.”

 

\--

 

They were lead through the baggage claim and the team manager had told them how the reunion with their families would be under the surveillance of the press but they had to stay behind a rope. Yuri grumbled and tried to fall back in the crowd, he had no desire to be met with blinding flashlights

“Yuratchka!” the deep voice boomed easily over the ruckus of the gathered reporters. There, right in the first row, stood Nikolai Plisetsky, who opened his arms wide and glowed brighter than all of the ongoing flashs combined. Yuri’s feet moved before he could even register what he was doing, elbowing his way through the biathlon team and propelling himself at his Deda. He did remember the two slipped discs the moment right before he would normally launch himself in his tackle hug, but instead halted and threw his arms around him.

Strange, he thought. His grandfather had always been that huge protecting figure, that towered over everything. Now he pressed Deda’s head against his own shoulder; he did not remember when he grew taller than him.

“Yuratchka,” he heard him murmuring, his voice rumbling through their shared hug. “I’m so, so proud of you.” Nikolai took one step backwards, raised his hand and Yuri dutifully held his head still while his grandfather pat his hair. “You did good, Yuratchka.”

Suddenly his throat was tight and a lump tried to suffocate him as he tried to blink away the gathering tears.

“Deda,” he croaked and hastily grabbed into the pocket of his jacket to produce his silver medal. He offered it suddenly somewhat shy and gently put the pink und blue band over Nikolai’s head.

“You take it,” he said, “I’ll win gold next time. But this one, this one’s only thanks to you.”

The press picture of the Plisetskys crying arm in arm made it to the local Moscow newspaper. The other one, where Yuri put the ribbon over his grandfather’s head got framed by Nikolai and put up next to the medal in the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole ordeal how Beka won a bronze medal at the olympics was of course derived from Denis Ten's achievments at the Sochi Olympics. Since Denis was Otabek's real life countepart I found it fitting to include it in that way.  
> While researching the happeneings back in Sochi I found research particullary hard, since I still cannot grasp how such a brilliant figure can be gone so suddenly.
> 
> The reference of Brooklyn 99 stands for the American Snowborder who overslept his final competition, because he'd been binge watching Brooklyn 99 and ended up winning gold.
> 
> I made Yuuri winning gold in regards to Yuzuru Hanyu. I gave Victor Silver, because I think he'd be much more happy to see his fiancé succeeding.
> 
> The tiger striped spandex has been a thing at the gala of the 2018 Olympics xD
> 
> I've wanted to include it, but maybe I'll write it as a seperate piece. In the 2022 Olympics in Beijing Yuri will be annoucned Team Captain, much to his dismay. And while these games weren't at his best timing, those will be and he'll be domineering them, wining gold in both events, at the top of his capabilities. Nikolai, who'll live long into Yuri's 40s, will be there finally and will haggle with his grandson to trade the silver team event medal for the gold one, because he could do with some change in their living room xD
> 
> Thank you so much for reading the whole story. I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Please let me know how you like it! A comment can do wonders to your fanfiction writers <3

**Author's Note:**

> I can just see Yuri struggling so much during the Olympics. He's usually so confident, but when his growing finally kicks in, it's all crumbling down. I used one of my childhood friends as a reference here, who everybody thought he would stay short, but suddenly he shot up like a beansprout over one summer at 17 and everybody joked which kind of growth serum he used.
> 
> I've debated whether to include the whole doping scandal in this or not and decided ultimately to do so, because I think it's an aspect that tends to be forgotten by anime ^^;
> 
> In reality there's probably nothing like a team captain Victor likes to play and I also kind of erased all kinds of Olympic team manager x'D  
> Most of the Russian skaters are based on real life skaters.


End file.
